Always Be
by Faye-Faye14
Summary: ArnxHel oneshots...She's just as she'll always be.
1. Time

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Author's notes:**Hello everyone. Wow…Hey Arnold. This is the show that first brought me to Fanfiction over 5 years ago. I've finally decided to attempt to write something for it. So…be gentle. I'm not sure if this is going to be just one chapter or a bunch of one-shots. I guess we'll just see how this one goes over --' 

**Dislaimer** I don't own Hey Arnold. sadface

**"Some people want it all, but I don'****t want ****nothing**** at all if it ****a****i****n'****t**** you baby."****- Alicia**** Keys**

**Always Be**

You watch him from across the room with a look of disinterest on your face. He's conversing with a lovely auburn haired girl over glasses of punch. You scowl. You're sick of watching him fawn over a girl who's stayed the same since 4th grade. Not that you've changed.

Your own hypocrisy begins to nag at you.

You set your punch glass down on the table and stumble over to the sliding glass door that leads to the balcony. You move sluggishly and begin to doubt the innocence of the pink liquid you'd just been drinking. As you get to the door, you take one last look around the populated room.

Music is blaring from speakers that you can't see and people are dancing in time to it. There's a large table filled with chips, dip, 'punch,' and various other party foods. You snort as you see a broken vase on the floor. You're sure that later, a certain princess will blow her lid over it. Your gaze slowly crawls back to the tawny haired boy smiling at the girl's "ever so funny" story.

Your face twists into a scowl.

You decide that you're sick of wishing and hoping. You'd even acted once. That fateful day atop the FTI building. But he had simply, although nicely, brushed you off. So, you turn and walk out onto the porch, shutting the sliding glass door behind you. It's cold out, but you hardly notice. You think you would've noticed if you weren't so upset. But you are, so you don't.

You totter over to a gleaming white lawn chair and throw yourself into it. The beautiful pink dress you bought to impress him is ripped, but you're beyond caring now. It didn't fit you right anyways. Not in the literal sense. More in the sense of trying to make a rectangle fit into a square. Everything you'd done over the years had ultimately resulted in nothing. You're in high school now and nothing has really changed. He never looks your way. He never smiles for you. He never loves you.

You start to cry.

You blame it on the alcohol you are now certain was in the punch, but you secretly know better. You feel like you're crumbling in on yourself, and it's an alien feeling. Not a Pataki feeling. You're an expert at holding in emotions. You are shocked when the doors open. Shocked and startled and angry. Who would dare to interrupt your pity party?!... That thought sobers you quickly.

"Helga?"

You look up and fix the intruder with the angriest scowl you can manage. You prepare to bite out a "What?!," but instantly shut your mouth when you notice who the intruder is.

It's him.

"Did you need something?" you say, with little venom. It's all you can summon up.

He looks at you with a confused expression. He sees the contradiction of your angry tone to the tears that have streaked down your face. His confusion turns to concern. Things really haven't changed.

"No…I was just…well…I saw you come out and you looked upset. I was just…"

"I'm fine," you say lamely, cutting him off. "You can go back inside. I just needed some fresh air." You berate yourself for turning him away, but why break tradition now? Being petty is what you excel at, you think bitterly.

"Actually, I wanted some air too. Is it me, or is that punch a little…off?" He laughs nervously. You know he really didn't want any fresh air. He's humoring you, and you hate it. You chuckle quietly back, and again, blame it on the alcohol. You're actually glad now for the excuse.

He pulls another lawn chair from around the table and sits down in it with his elbows on his knees. He's not the short little boy you pulverized constantly anymore. It makes you want to cry again. Where had all the time gone? He asks again, "Helga, are you sure you're alright?"

"I don't know," you breathe out. You're terrified of your weakness. You're sure he knows something is wrong now. For you to say anything other than something rude is an obvious sign of that.

You can't look into his eyes. You know if you do, you'll lose everything you've worked so hard for. All those years of keeping your secret, wasted. Even still, you can picture them. His eyes. They're beautiful and green and full of compassion. You love his eyes. You're envious of his beauty, both inner and outer. And of Hers.

He puts one hand gently over your own balled up ones. You hadn't realized you were shaking. You write it off to the cold that you can't really feel. He squeezes gently.

You look up and begin to cry. Again.

You can't see much with your face in your hands and your make up running into your eyes, but you know he's doing his best to comfort you. He hugs you, and you cry harder as you remember how great he is at giving out hugs and comfort. No one else had ever cared enough about you to do anything remotely similar. He doesn't interrupt you. He lets you cry, and you're thankful for it.

"Better?" He asks with a small grin.

You suddenly are laughing. Loudly. He joins you, probably just grateful for the ceasing of the tears.

"Yes," you laugh out.

You realize that he's not going to ask what prompted the outburst. You smile. He always knew what was right.

Suddenly, you are struck with a serious, weighty feeling. Your smile slowly fades. You want to kiss him and tell him everything. You want to bare your soul to this boy who's always cared for you. You want to explain all the incidents and make clear all of your actions over the past decade. You've decided not to break traditions. But, you also decide that maybe making some new ones couldn't hurt.

You smile again. Another alien feeling. He smiles back.

"Thank you," you say softly. "You…this meant a lot to me. I'm glad you decided to get some fresh air." You laugh slightly.

He laughs before saying, "Me too. You know, why don't I walk you home?"

"Home? Are you kidding me? I'm here to have a kickass senior party. Care to join me, Hairboy?" You feel light and airy. You worry slightly about the nickname, but quickly forget about it as you notice his hand still on your shoulder.

His look of astonishment vanishes as quickly as it came. He stands up and helps you out of the plastic lawn chair. Now, you can't _stop _smiling. Warmth seeps into your bones as you re-enter the house. You see Her talking to Stinky, and a pretty raven-haired girl screeching about a broken vase.

"Let's dance!" You scream happily over the music.

You want to. But only with him.

"Alright," he says. He smiles and you lose track of the hours.

* * *

You grab your coat and start to head for the door. Everyone is laughing and smiling and waving goodbye, and you're shocked to realize that you are included. But, you've saved the best for last. 

"So…thanks again. For the err…dances and other stuff," you say awkwardly. You're not used to showing gratitude.

"Anytime, Helga. See you tomorrow in English?"

You pause. Things will be different tomorrow and you're scared. He sees you hesitate and smiles sweetly.

"Of course, Football-head," you say, mirroring the affection on his face.

You part ways, still smiling.

* * *

You walk down lighted streets and swing your arms uncharacteristically. 

The night had turned in your favor and you want to shout it to the skies. You feel light and bubbly and incredible. This time you don't blame it on the alcohol. You reach your house and unlock the door. As you step inside, you don't feel as beaten as you usually do. Somebody cares. The only somebody in the world that matters to you. His opinion is law in your world. To quote the cliché, you really would jump off a bridge if he wished it.

You jump the stairs to your room, even in your dress. Nothing can slow you down at the moment. You change into your sleep attire and slip into your bed. You can see the stars through your window and you're awed at their beauty. But, you know they would dull in comparison to him. He's radiant. As you slip into sleep, you let a smile grace your face. All those years of wishing and hoping weren't wasted. Some things just take time.

You are willing to wait. You'd wait any amount of time for that sweet smile.

Tomorrow will come soon enough, you think. Not scared anymore.


	2. Defense mechanisms

**Author's notes:**I've decided to continue. Sorry to crash the party. Haha. This is another one shot. I think I'm gonna do an actual story here too….I just need to have an idea for it….Yeeeaahh. So, I hope you enjoy.

**Dislaimer:** I don't own Hey Arnold. sadface

"**When we live such fragile lives, it's the best way we survive."- Dirty Little Secret by All American Rejects**

**II. A Day of Understanding**

He's sitting in Psychology class when he freezes suddenly.

She knows, because she's always watching him. She tries not to think how creepy that sounds.

He froze because the teacher was droning on about how children can tease the other children they truly like. Defense mechanisms, he called it. She was too busy watching him to notice what the teacher was talking about. She never listened anyways. She's been seeing a psychologist since she was 9, she doesn't need lectures. She only took the class because he did. As she tunes in to what he's actually lecturing about, she freezes too. 'Shit.'

He begins to wonder. It would make some sense, he supposes. She _was_ always around. She _was_ always teasing him. And she never showed interest in other boys at all. And there was also that day atop the FTi Building. But…

He knows what assuming does.

How embarrassing would it be to ask her? How would that even come up in conversation? And firstly, when did they ever have said conversations? "Hey Helga! Nice day we're having. So, I heard in Psych that when people tease each other, it can mean they like them. You got the hots for me?"

Yeah…..real nice.

While he ponders, she sweats profusely. Has he figured it out? What will I say if he says anything? What's for lunch? I hope there's some pizza left.

The bell rings and students leap out of their seats for lunch. She sits a few rows behind him to the left, and she doesn't leap out for lunch. Even though the pizza calls to her.

He also sits and waits. When he doesn't see her go by, he turns himself in his seat to look at her.

Her face looks wary and worried, and he's surprised to catch her off her guard. Even if only for an instant. As he silently studies her, he thinks it wouldn't be so terrible if she liked him. For anybody to like somebody their entire childhood and adolescence is a feat in itself. And she's sorta pretty.

She quickly regains herself and scowls. A spitball flies at his pondering face. The wet smack is heard throughout the empty classroom. She stands up and moves past him.

"What the hell are you looking at, Football Head?"

"Nothing Helga…I was just gathering my notes."

"Good."

She 'hmphs' and exits the classroom, leaving a not-so-confused anymore boy.

'I was obviously wrong,' he thinks. 'She just hates me.'

Her secret's safe.


	3. Psych 101: Waffles

**AN: **Weeeell. I was working on my Fullmetal story when an idea came and bit me. HARD. It was frustrating! Should I continue with my Fullmetal chapter or start on this idea? It bit me again!! So I decided to start this one. I hope it's enjoyed . Rated T for Helga's potty mouth.

**Disclaimer:** Here's a witty way to tell you I don't own Hey Arnold.

**"We are all just prisoners here of our own device."- Hotel California by ****The**** Eagles.**

**III. ****Irony-Psych 101: Waffles and His wake**

I woke up that morning in a pondering mood. The kind of mood where you question everything you've ever done and what it's amounted to. The kind of mood where you look at the sky and wonder 'why?' It's damn near depressing. Especially when you wake up alone. Twnety-six years old and still so alone.

Wondering was also bad because it led to Him. Never-ending questions.

Before my thoughts could stray any farther, I decided to leap out of bed and make myself breakfast. Maybe waffles. Waffles always made me feel better.

I had a therapy session scheduled for later. I was far too old to be seeing Dr. Bliss anymore, but recently I'd felt the need to just talk. When I called for her opinion, she referred me to someone else in her building. I felt powerless in my own life. I think that's the only reason I still wanted to talk about things. Helga Pataki was never supposed to feel powerless. She was a successful novelist, well-liked and fairly attractive. She had a well-rounded life.

But I did feel powerless. I felt out of control. I felt as if I was living my life in His wake.

I pulled out syrup from the cabinet and plopped down into a chair to eat my waffles. They tasted fantastic. Just like I knew they would. But even they didn't distract me from where my thoughts had been.

The last time I'd seen Him had been the summer after our high school graduation. He was leaving for college on the east coast. I was going to Stanford for English. We'd be so far apart. I decided that I needed to tell him exactly how I felt. Looking back on it, I feel dumb. How many times had I sworn up and down that I was going to confess? And how many times had it blown up in my face? Every time.

Inevitability is a bitch.

I'd shown up at his doorstep soaking. It'd been an impulsive decision to go confess and as luck would have it, it'd been raining. He invited me in and gave me a towel; he was always so kind. But then he inquired as to why I'd shown up. Of course my tongued shriveled and my mind blanked. I suddenly felt burdensome. Who was I to unload this secret onto the boy who always gave all he could? The boy who always saw the glass as half full. The boy who had always given a damn about me. The boy I loved.

I don't remember exactly what I said, only that it was lame and not convincing. Something along the lines of, 'You know, I just wanted to see you before you left. Yeah. Cause you're going to college. And so am I.'

I'm an intelligent woman, but that boy can always reduce me to an idiot. Words have always been my strong point, except around him. He looked confused after I'd finally finished mumbling. But, instead of demanding more, he just smiled and said…

"I'll miss you Helga."

I was thankful for the previous rain in that instant, because I'm positive tears leaked out when I replied. "Yeah," I said sophisticatedly, softly. Brokenly.

I made up an excuse about having to be somewhere, and left. I went to college, majored in English, and successfully published 4 novels. I was also an insomniac who ate T.V. dinners for a majority of her meals. Anti-social is a good term.

I looked down at my plate and stared at my soggy waffles. Time passed, I'm not sure how much. I stood up and dumped the waffles into the waste-basket and headed to the bathroom. I needed to shower and freshen up before I went to meet my new therapist.

You only get one chance at a first impression.

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I was dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and a zip up hoodie as I strutted my way over to the office building where Dr. Bliss worked. I hated dressing up. Casual wear was a place of refuge. As much as I hate to admit it, I was nervous to meet this new therapist. It's not all that easy to spill out your darkest secrets to a complete stranger. And most of mine are so embarrassing. Talking about Him was sure to be humiliating. A grown woman talking about her pre-school crush. It really is a wonder no one ever put me in the loony bin.

Upon seeing the building, I felt a rush of nostalgia. How many times had I come to this very place to unload. Many times.

I entered the building and went to the 4th floor. There were boxes everywhere outside room 416. She'd said this was the room. There wasn't even a name on the door. I decided to knock. I heard shuffling from inside the room, a brief yelp and a louder "Oof." I smiled to myself. There must be quite a few boxes inside as well. The moron I was going to be getting advice from had just tripped over one. Fantastic.

"Sorry, I'm coming. Just one second," said the muffled voice.

It was male. I started to curse Dr. Bliss in my mind. Most of my confessions were going to be about another man. How utterly embarrassing. As my mind dripped with foul thoughts, the door suddenly swung open.

A young, handsome, blonde man stood in the doorway. A blonde man I'd loved since I was three years old.

"Sorry, I'm still moving in. Dr. Bliss referred you right? Let me grab your chart," he said as he smiled brightly.

It shouldn't have surprised me that he'd become a psychologist. He had always tried to help people. But him being mine?

No.

Hell no.

I think I started to hyperventilate. He turned around and stared at me with a look of concern. I'm sure my face was horrific. I felt horrific. He grabbed a file and headed back towards the door.

He laughed and said, "You can come in. I know the place is messy, but I have a couch cleared." He paused and when I didn't say anything or move he added, "Are you alright?"

He should've known it was me. Standing there with that same dumb-ass look on my face. The same look I had the last time I'd seen him. I looked out the window to see it was raining.

How poetic.

When I looked back at him, he was reading my chart.

"Helga?" He asked in disbelief. His green eyes studied me, looking for an answer. I paused slightly before giving a faint smile.

"Hey Arnold."


	4. Psych 101: Rain

**AN: **Yay!! I'm glad everyone liked this last chapter. I had a really fun time writing it, so I'm glad it was somewhat enjoyed. I had a difficult time writing this chapter, so I hope it's well liked too…I couldn't figure out where I wanted to go with it. To clear up any confusion, there is a chapter story within "Always Be." Any chapter starting with 'Psych101' will be in the same timeline as this last chapter and this one. All other chapters will just be one-shots. Yeeeaaahh. So complicated. Haha. So…please enjoy and **review! ALSO!!** check out the song "Love Like This." It was like….made for Helga and Arnold. 333

**Disclaimer: **Yeah. I still don't own it. Maybe tomorrow.

**"Well we go back so far, swinging in your backyard, all the things that we used to do. We were cool back in high school, ooh, I really liked you, must've been your attitude." –Love ****Like**** This by **_**Natasha **__**Bedingfield**_

**Psych 101: Rain**

I should've been panicking. I really should've been. But, I felt oddly calm. I felt relieved and excited and unstably joyous. My mind was screaming at me to run in the opposite direction of the man before me, but my legs stayed firmly rooted to where I stood.

While my thoughts raced, I studied his face. God, he was so handsome. He was tall and lean. His golden hair was slightly disheveled, with some locks falling into his eyes. His eyes… His eyes were still soft in their kindness and bright in their green color. And as he grinned in recognition of me, I noted that his smile was something I could never grow tired of. The man who stood before me could not be more beautiful, inside or out. As my daydreaming snapped to an end, I shuddered at the thought of what I looked like.

"Helga!," he half-shouted as he continued to grin. "It's good to see you. I had no idea that you saw Dr. Bliss!"

I laughed nervously as I said, "Yeah. Since 4th grade. I uh…had family problems and stuff."

Stuff being Him.

"Come in, come in. We should catch up. It's been, what? Eight years?"

Eight years and 54 days actually. But, who's counting?

Damn him for being so oblivious to my obvious fright. How could he simply usher me into his office to "catch up?" And did he honestly expect me to stay for a therapy session? Looking at his open grin and warm eyes, I would have to say he did. He'd always been dense. I guess a Masters degree in psychology hadn't changed that. Why did that make me want to kiss him?

When I think about kissing Arnold, sometimes I don't watch or pay attention to what I'm doing. This was one of those instances.

Without thinking or paying attention, I proceeded to take him up on his invitation and slowly walk into the room. I'd forgotten about the boxes, and with my lack of thinking and attention I _also_ proceeded to tumble to the ground in a less than graceful manner.

"Goddamnit Oww!" I gritted out. Eloquent, Pataki.

I heard a gasp and felt a warm, strong hand on my back. I'd trip over every damn box in the room if he'd touch me. Is that sick? I think it might be.

"Are you alright Helga? I'm sorry. I should've cleared a path." His voice was laced with concern and it made my heart flutter. Maybe I'm a masochist?

"I'm fine," I said as I slowly stood up with his help. "Just as klutzy as ever," I muttered.

He helped me to the couch, then turned and sat in his own chair. I hadn't looked at what he was wearing in my earlier inspection. He was wearing khaki pants that fit him very nicely. I know because he had to turn around to sit in his chair. And I had stared. I felt like I was a 12 year old girl looking at a boy-band magazine. Shameless, but I continued. He was also wearing a grass green sweater that complimented his chest and brought out his eyes. Before he could notice my appreciative glance, I decided to strike up a conversation.

"So you're a psychologist."

Ooh. Intelligent.

"I mean it fits. You always were trying to help people and crap."

He chuckled, "Yeah I guess so. I had a lot of interests, but this one just seemed to click, you know? And what about you Ms. Hot-Shot novelist? Anything new in the works? You're last one was great. I really enjoyed it."

I blanched. He'd read my works? How embarrassing. All three of them were about unrequited love and the struggles it brought. My voice came out in a squeak when I spoke next.

"I'm working on one right now, but I'm having trouble with it. I want it to be different from the others. I don't want it to be redundant." Suddenly, I worried that he might be starting my session. I didn't want to talk to him about Him!! HE WAS HIM! How utterly confusing. Time to take your leave, Pataki.

"You're a wonderful writer Helga, but, I loved reading them because I felt like I got to witness a part of you that I knew was there, but I'd never seen. I felt like I got insight. You were across the country, but I felt like I'd never been closer. Weird how writing can bring out such strong emotions, huh?"

He just said "felt" a lot. He'd always been an emotional boy.

But…I felt exposed. I felt naked. I felt like he knew all of my secrets. Especially the one I didn't want him knowing.

I just said "felt" a lot too. I guess I'm an emotional girl. The panic that should've set in twenty minutes ago was finally surfacing.

"So, was there any truth from your own life in them? I was always curious. The relationship between the two was just so real."

Why? WHY did he have to go down the one path that would lead to my doom? Why couldn't he have asked about my dysfunctional family or something. I wanted to throw out some heartbreaking news that would distract him.

_Arnold, I'm sick….so sick. I think my psyche is cracking because of it._

_Arnold, My father__'s cousin__ just passed away. __I'm crushed. Hold me._

_Arnold, You WILL die if you continue to tal__k about the subject of yourself unknowingly._

"Yes," I breathed out. "There was someone I liked very much growing up, but I don't think he knew. Those types of feelings can eat at you. So, I decided to write them out."

He stared at me then. He stared with his piercing green eyes, and I was sure that he could see straight through my vague reply. I fidgeted and he smiled softly.

"You know, I thought the main character was a great girl. She was smart and funny. But, I was disappointed that she never told the boy her feelings. I think he had a right to know, don't you? If someone felt that way about you, wouldn't you want them to tell you?"

I was angry. How _dare_ he parallel my character's position with my own! I ground my teeth together.

"No, I wouldn't want somebody to tell me they felt so strongly. It'd be burdensome, and I don't need it," I said in a carefully controlled voice. I was trying to sound casual. Trying and failing like an insect trying to avoid a windshield.

"It wouldn't have to be burdensome. What if you came to like the person?" He was always so optimistic, and I really did love him for it. His ability to look at things from the bright side of life was refreshing. But even his tone of voice was restrained.

"You obviously don't know what it's like to love somebody wholeheartedly. There's no room for someone else," I scoffed. His eyes became slightly agitated. I recognized it and hated myself. Did I really come here today just to act like we were in grade school again?

"Well you are obviously selfish enough to think that the boy you love can read minds," he tossed back. Later, I would laugh about how childish and unprofessional he looked. But in that moment, I was fuming.

"Grow up Arnold!" I screamed. "Not everyone in the world gets what they want. Telling him my feelings wouldn't solve all of my problems!"

"Clearly!" He barked back. "You'd rather sit in your own pool of pity than do anything about it."

I stood and ran towards the doorway. I fled to the elevator and across the lobby before I realized that I was crying. It didn't matter anyways, I decided, as I pushed the door open in the rain.

It felt cold and good. I walked for what seemed like hours, but was in reality only about two minutes before I felt two hands grab me by my arms and turn me around gently, but with urgency. I knew it was him, but I couldn't bring myself to look up. He thought I had problems. He was right. Everything he'd said up in that room was right. I had wasted years of my life trying to get him to notice me in silly, juvenile ways instead of just saying something.

Something in my chest snapped.

"I'm sorry," I cried. I didn't realize I'd thrown myself into him until his arms came around me awkwardly. He was trying to comfort me, but he probably had no idea what had sparked my sudden apology. And actually, I wasn't too clear myself.

"Helga, I shouldn't have said those things to you, I was—"

"No, you're right. I should've told you a long time ago that I loved you. I mean, I did that one summer, but you didn't take me seriously. God…was that fourth grade?" I pushed back from his chest. My ramble had caused a confused blush to spread across his face. He probably thought I was Nutso. "I don't think you _deserve_ to know, but I don't think I can keep it in much longer either." I stared straight into his eyes and stated, "I love you Arnold. I always have."

I don't really know why I did what I did next. If I'm confused, then the poor boy was probably baffled out of his mind. I did what I'd been wanting to do all day. I kissed him. It was sweet and soft, but with an underlying release. I tasted rain, cinnamon and maple. My hand went to his face and my thumb stroked his cheek slowly. His lips didn't move, but they were soft beneath my own. I engraved the feeling into my heart. When I pulled away, his eyes were wide and his face was stained red.

"Do what you will with that knowledge."

I smiled then. And meant it. Even though tears were streaming down my face, I honestly meant it. He could toss aside my confession for all I cared. I'd said it. I'd told him. I didn't have to feel sorry for myself anymore. I closed my eyes and listened to the rain. I cracked one open as I heard a soft chuckle.

"I'd say we made great progress today, wouldn't you Ms. Pataki?" he laughed out, his face still tomato red.

It was as if he'd just told the funniest joke on the planet. My face broke out into a grin and I shook with uncontrollable laughter. What an odd day it had been. I quieted down after a minute and asked, "Well, where do we go from here?"

"Well, we never really did catch up. We could go to Slausen's for some ice cream tomorrow?" The shy look on his face as he said that made me want to kiss him again. I restrained myself. I remembered the April Fool's Day fiasco and almost broke out into another fit of giggles.

"Slausen's sounds great Football-Head. How's noon for you?"

"I'll be there," he said. "Do you need a ride home or anything? It's pouring."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm already soaked. A little more rain won't kill me. I'll see you tomorrow."

He nodded and turned to leave. He was almost back to his building's front door when a thought struck me.

"Hey Arnold?"

He turned back to face me. My tentative tone set a concerned look on his face.

"Is it…is it burdensome?" I found myself unable to lock eyes with him as I asked. But I felt his stare on me. A minute passed, and I started to let my fears run rampant. I decided to risk looking into his eyes.

What I saw there made me release the breath I didn't know I'd been holding.

"No. Not at all." He said as he smiled warmly. He paused and then added, "See you tomorrow."

I watched him turn and head back into his building.

It hadn't been burdensome.

He still wanted to catch up and talk.

As I headed home, I knew exactly what I was going to do as soon as I stepped through the door. I was going to boot up my computer and write the next chapter in my new novel.

And this one wasn't going to include a sob-story heroine.


	5. Waking Up

**AN:** YAY!! I am so glad that people liked the last chapter okay. I was so nervous. I decided that since the last 2 were so happy and cute, that this one would be a little less happy and cute. Yeess. Anyways, I'm sure the next chapter will be up soon. And it will be in the Psych 101 timeline. Thanks so much for all the reviews. They are my bread and butter.

… And I love me some bread and butter.

**Disclaimer:** Hey Arnold, I do not own thee.

"**When you're dreaming with a broken heart, the waking up is the hardest part."- John Mayer**

**VI: ****Change**

You wake up on a lazy Sunday morning, but decide to stay in bed anyways. It's warm, and comforting, and you rationalize that you have nothing to do today except study for finals. Your thoughts stray to Him, as they often do. You wonder what He's doing. Is He snuggled up in bed thinking of you, as you are of him? You grimace. Probably not. Best to think about something else.

Phoebe had called the day before. It was so rare to hear from her, and you were glad for the escape it provided. You had long ago told your petite, inquisitive best friend about your crush on said blonde boy. But you figure she'd known ages ago and was simply feigning surprise for your benefit.

'Really? Arnold? I _never_ would have guessed!' She had whispered out, complete with hands on her cheeks in shock.

Your eyes nearly cross as you think of your own stupidity. Only now, sprawled in your dorm room bed, miles away from her, is it exceedingly obvious how acted that whole confession had played out. And you thought you'd been cunning.

You almost let out a laugh. Phoebe's intellect would've been in dire competition with the intellect of a grapefruit had she not picked up on your obsession. You _do_ let out a laugh when you think of how that analogy affects His intellect. You know his obliviousness wasn't feigned. You refuse to think it was.

Phoebe had given her the run down on boys, school, and old friends. She was staying in Hillwood to become a physician, and you thought it was the perfect profession for her to pursue. She and Gerald were an item, and it gives you immense pleasure in teasing the two. You're grateful she never fires back. You can't even imagine the shitpile of things she could call you out on. Your immaturity, OCD, and stubborn streak were sure to be there. Probably on top.

From her call, you gauge that she's happy, and doing well, which in turn makes you happy. You've always wanted great things for her, and being away from Pheebs really has been one of the tougher things. You also gauge from her call that Gerald is well. He'd said as much during their conversation. Actually, he'd said to "wrap it up with Pataki because he had a special dinner prepared, and he'd slaved…" And that's where you'd stopped listening. Bitching men weren't your forte. You threw out your farewells and promises of calling soon and hung up.

As your thoughts fizzle off of Phoebe, they head back to where they were before. Him. You click your tongue, deciding that you give the term 'Vicious Cycle' a run for its money, and you're not sure whether you should be proud or ashamed.

You heave out of bed and make the short trek to the kitchen. A box of toaster waffles in the freezer have your name on them. Literally. Your dorm mate doesn't know the term 'boundaries.'

Speaking of…

"Morning," you mutter.

"Is it?" She replies, not lifting her eyes from the latest gossip magazine. You know she isn't listening to you, because you hadn't even said "good." The fact that it was morning wasn't in question.

You open the freezer door, grab the frozen carbs, shudder at the cold, and close it swiftly. You feel a gaze settle on you as the toaster is plugged in and the waffles are plopped into place.

"Can you make me some?"

"Mmmm…" You drag out, almost uncertainly. "No."

You know her face is slumped into a pout. You also know that it often gets her what she wants, and you refuse to be a statistic. Overlooking her altogether, you grab the syrup bottle, browned waffles, and plate and scuttle back to your own domain. You wouldn't be so cruel, but you know she's going to scavenge the freezer the moment you turn around. The thought makes you miss aforementioned girl on phone.

_She _would never steal your waffles.

They're your comfort food, and she knows it like a fact from a textbook.

Sometimes the homesickness makes you want to scream. You'd just _had_ to distance yourself from Him. You had reasoned it would make things better. You'd fall for some other boy at college. Get swept away. Forget all about Ice Cream.

Sitting in the bed that's not really yours, miles away, eating your empty calories, you feel like a total idiot. Someone had told you before you left that 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder.' You'd scoffed. What a ridiculous notion.

But now you felt ridiculous.

As if your fondness hadn't been overwhelming when in proximity to Him. Now it felt crushing. You'd give anything to see his smiling face. You choke back a sob. What if _He'd_ moved on? Been swept away? What if he'd forgotten about pig tails and unibrows. Okay, you could forgive him forgetting the unibrow…it'd been downright embarrassing anyways. But the pink bow…

Anger replaces your grief. You know if you saw him right now you'd only do something immature, just as you know your roommate is out in the kitchen deciding if she wants blueberry or maple syrup to go with those waffles. He'd make a kind gesture and you'd shove the figurative tapioca pudding all over his shirt, just as you'd always done.

Vicious Cycle indeed.

You think the hardest part is the dreams. Sometimes, you'd dream him showing up at your door.

"Can I come in?" He'd ask.

You nod mutely and step aside, too shocked to do anything other than shuffle to the side of the doorframe.

Dream Arnold is always ridiculously handsome. As he passes through the door, you notice that he's grown taller. His jaw line is maddeningly masculine and his hard, lean frame always makes you want to drool. Almost as much as waffles.

Okay, that's a lie. More than waffles. More than waffles with whip cream and a cherry on top.

You gather your wits and ask "What're you doing-"

"Phoebe wasn't the only one who knew," he'd say, effectively shutting you up. The honest look in his green eyes pierces you, and you know his statement is true. His questioning, firm gaze makes you fidget.

You feel your eyes begin to water and direct your gaze to the floor. Maybe if you stare long enough you can estimate a thread count on the shabby carpet.

You feel more than see him stride up to you. Your heart won't seem to stay in its ribcage. As his fingers settle under your chin, the water escapes from your lashes. _Show's over. He knows. Has known._

The moment his soft lips come into sweet contact with your own is always the same moment your eyes open slowly to take in the surrounding of your college bedroom. And you're always by yourself. As if still in the dream, your eyes begin to moisten. Waking up's the hardest part.

You stare down at your plate of soggy mess.

It's your own fault. You know it is, but it doesn't make the hurt any better. You're the one who never told him your feelings. You're the one that moved cross country to try and get swallowed up by a new obsession. And now you're the one sitting in your crumpled bed choking on regrets, while your roommate eats you out of house and home.

Tomorrow you're going to call Phoebe. You'll be graduating this year, and maybe moving back to Hillwood wouldn't be such a bad idea. The major perk to being an aspiring novelist is the freedom to live anywhere you wanted to. Your creativity has been somewhat lacking here anyways.

You carefully place your unfinished plate on the floor and flop back into bed, hoping for a dreamless sleep.


	6. Psych 101: What I was, What I am

**AN: **Soooo, what's up everyone? I can't even believe I'm coming back to this story. My muse for Arnold and the gang left me high and dry. Then, out of the blue, he whispered sweet nothings into my ears. "Wriiiittteee,' I heard. I think I'm such an obedient person.

Anywayssss...sorry for the wait. Hopefully he won't abandon me so ruthlessly this time.

"**What can I compare you to? When everything looks like you. I get a bit confused, but every spring...Flowers that bloom. Your eyes. Hummingbirds side by side. My heart won't stay entirely in this rib caging..." **_**'Take it From Me,' by The Weepies**_

**Psych 101: What I was, What I am**

My filthy mouth was staining the walls of my bedroom. I could almost hear them dripping with my colorful words. The dilemma? A closet full of clothes and nothing to wear. That dress looks sleazy and this one is a pink, Pataki classic. These shoes are too square. This shirt, too baggy. A string of foul words escaped my lips. I knew I was being ridiculous. But my whole life had accumulated to this one outing for ice cream.

The perfectionist in me was on a rampage. And not a particularly constructive one either.

My teeth looked too bucky. My hair, far too blonde. And forget the clothes. It looked like a tornado had whipped through and left the hangers bone dry; lonely without their cloth friends. A part of me snickered, '_then you ought to go naked. Stark.'_

I willed the perfectionist to come back. The pervert would have to suffer, because I eventually settled on an outfit. The jeans were my absolute favorite pair. I'd always had long legs, but these...these made them go on forever. I then decided to don a cream colored lace tank top, with a light, light pink, buttoned blouse over the top. I decided that not looking in the mirror again would probably be best. It would only betray me, and I had no more energy or time to waste in my closet.

I wondered briefly if I should worry. Arnold's opinion had shaped most decisions in my life. If I had to put a percentage on it, I'd say 90%. Sweet? Possibly. Disgusting? Probably.

You always see those movies on television about devils, or genies granting wishes. I hate those movies. But, if I could sell my soul or rub a lamp and find out what Arnold actually thought about me, I wouldn't hesitate. Because, although he treats me with kindness, I really have no idea what he thinks of me.

Pity ice cream trip with Helga? If I found that thought floating in his head, I'd give up my other two wishes and just tell the Devil he could take me right then and there. Or tell the Genie to take a hike. Whichever.

I had the air conditioning on full blast on the way to Slausen's. Oh, it wasn't hot outside. I seemed to just be sweating inexplicably, and profusely. I'm surprised I didn't crash on the way over. How embarrassing. He would read the paper and think, "Crazy Helga Pataki."

As I walked up towards the corner ice cream shop, I went over my plan. I had strategically arrived 5 minutes late. That way, if he stood me up, I could just tell myself that he had been there waiting, but **I **had been late. No harm done. If he was actually sitting down, waiting to have some dessert and a heart-to-heart...then God have mercy, because I had no plan for that sure-to-be train wreck.

I opened the door and swept inside, almost blinded by my own fear. My heartbeat was pounding in my ears, but I finally managed to focus. He was sitting at the bar. He hadn't seen me yet, so I took the chance to study him. He looked strange sitting there all by himself. Arnold was always surrounded by people. They loved him. He was dressed nicely. I wondered if he had been a blundering idiot in his closet that morning. '_Like, I wonder what Helga will like? Oh, no. Not THESE slacks.'_

I almost chuckled.

He looked all grown up. I envied him that. I still looked in the mirror and saw Helga G. Pataki of PS 118. Helga G. Pataki, with her unibrow and pigtails. I don't really pray, but in that moment, I prayed with all my might that he didn't still see me as Helga G. Pataki. I would hate to be left behind while he had so obviously matured. But then again, Arnold had always made me feel immature and ridiculous. Made me act it, too.

I finally made my presence known by strutting over and taking a seat on the stool beside him.

"Hey," I said a little too loudly.

He turned, startled; surprise apparent on his face. "Oh, Helga, hey, I'm glad you came."

Did he honestly doubt that I would show up, or was it small talk? Maybe if I mentioned the shrine I'd constructed out of his used gum he wouldn't doubt my commitment again. Too soon, Helga. Too soon. Start easy. Maybe the poems would be a nice segway in?

He was staring at me. I then realized that he had spoken last. It's common courtesy to say something next. So, I said, "Well, I do love ice cream."

As if ice cream is the reason I showed up. Well, technically I guess Ice Cream _is_ the reason I showed up. But only if it's in reference to Arnold. Damn, where's Phoebe when I need her most? Phoebe knows of my aching, burning love for Ice Cream. And not the treat.

If he thought my comment was awkward, his face didn't make it known. Instead he said, "Well then lets get some. Ladies first."

Arnold's smile could warm me for days. Nobody else has ever had that effect on me. It's beautiful, if not a bit terrifying.I turn to the employee behind the counter and place an order for a banana split. My absolute favorite. He smiles again, and I fleetingly wonder if it had the magic to melt my ice cream.

"Make it two."

He wanted what I wanted. Helga G. Pataki saw marriage. She saw a baby in a baby carriage.

As the worker set to his delicious task, I felt strange. Yesterday was so surreal. Even today felt surreal. Was he going to mention it? Or would I have to be the brave soul? As much as I was dying to know his feelings, I was also scared. And, as crazy as I am, I honestly didn't expect an answer of love today. Him being here was enough.

"Arnold, about yesterday..."

"Your hair looks nice, Helga. I don't think I've ever really seen it down before. I mean, other than yesterday, of course." He paused before continuing slowly, "And about yesterday, I-"

"Thanks," I cut him off. "We don't have to talk about it. I just...I wanted to talk with you today. It doesn't have to be about that. I'm not expecting anything. Well, other than ice cream." I closed my mouth and said what I felt. "This is strange. I mean, I feel like I'm dreaming. I keep looking around for something out of place, like a pink elephant in the room or something."

As I was about to ramble on, he chuckled. "You dream about pink elephants?"

"Who doesn't?" I laughed back.

"You dream about me?"

The serious expression on his face along with his probing gaze prohibited me from giving a half-assed answer. I took a swipe of my banana and shifted my eyes away from his own, blue, intense ones.

"As if you didn't figure that out yesterday," I choked out.

"Helga, we can talk about this slowly, but, you have to understand my curiosity. You can't drop a bomb and expect no consequences."

"I know," I muttered sullenly, still glancing straight ahead. I could still feel his gaze on me. I couldn't risk a repeat meltdown, so I kept my eyes glued to the wall ahead of me.

"But, whatever your reasons, I'm glad. I can't wait to hear every explanation. You make my life more exciting-surprising. So, let's just take our time."

While he was waiting for a response, I realized that he was absolutely right. But really, when was he ever wrong?

"My hair," I said slowly. I chanced locking eyes with him. "The first thing you ever said to me. It was about my hair. My bow. It was a rainy, awful day, but you liked my bow."

If I could've had a picture of his face after that statement, I would've cherished it for the rest of my life. His eyes softened and his face was so boyishly handsome with wonder. He was everything I ever have and ever will love. The embodiment of perfection to the old Helga G. Pataki, and the new one who sat awkwardly filling out jeans and a blouse. As he swallowed heavily, his jaw tightened, and the masculinity of the action made my heart skip a beat. I would give this boy all the time in the world.

I scooped some whipped cream off the top of his split. It drew him back to reality. "Hey!" He cried, undignified with a teasing tone.

"It's gonna melt," I explained with a grin.

He smiled at me sweetly and took a small bite. I was glad that he was deciding to take his time with me.


	7. Psych 101: History

**AN: **Well hello everyone! Been awhile, but I'm glad to be back. I got a review on my birthday, and it was like…POOF…I was sucked back into this realm. Homework? PSHAA! My education can wait. Here's the next chapter! Thanks for reading, and toss me a review! =)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Hey Arnold! ...On this plane of reality.

**Rated T: **For Helga's potty mouth and admiring gaze

"**My hands, they don't wanna start again. My hands, no they don't wanna understand. My hands, they just shake and try to break whatever peace I may find. My hands, they only agree to hold Your Hands..." - 'My Hands' by Leona Lewis**

**Psych 101: History**

"So...?"

"'So what?" I replied as if my ears hadn't received his question. As if I wasn't tuned into everything about him. His soft breathing, the sound of his shoes on the sidewalk. Feigning innocence seemed to be the way to go.

"So, there was never anyone else?" he repeated. He sounded slightly shocked and the notion made me blanch. How long could I avoid this subject? I would sound like a maniac if I told him there was no one else. If I started down that road, surely there was no turning back. I could see him fleeing. Running and screaming down the street away from me, as if I had turned into a hideous creature. A part of me wanted to drop to the ground in a mock seizure. My dramatic flair hadn't made an appearance at the movie theater, or at the lovely Italian restaurant we had dined at. It was dying for a chance to take center stage. I used my peripherals to gauge how long I had before he repeated himself again. Judging from the curiosity in his blue eyes, I imagined time wasn't on my side.

"I mean sure there was...Geez, I'm not a total freak. I mean, you know. You shouldn't be so presumptuous." I had spoken quite loudly. I wanted to hurl myself in front of the oncoming traffic. Those first few outbursts weren't even sentences. In the end, I decided to applaud myself for 'presumptuous.' Four syllables. In his presence, I should be so lucky.

I glanced over and noted that he had stopped looking in my direction and resumed his stare down the sidewalk.

"You know Helga, why can't you just be yourself with me? I was hoping we'd gotten past this. Dinner was so enjoyable. But now..."

His heavy sigh made me irritated. I'd upset him. Frustrated him even. And worst of all, I'd frustrated myself. But, he had no idea how hard it was for me to be honest with him. It went against years and years of habit. A bad habit, I knew, but it was so engrained.

I was angry. Suddenly he felt like he could just read me? Like he KNOWS me? Before I could calm my temper I blurted out,

"Arnold, You have no idea how I am. You have ideas and notions and psycho-babble bullshit theories, but until this week, you never even gave me the time of day. So don't act like you know me inside and out."

Cursing? Really? I'd even thrown my hands in the air, gesturing wildly. And him not paying me attention? A total lie. How many times had he comforted me with kind words and a smile. A beautiful smile. A smile that my words and actions had wiped off of his face. Before I could undo the damage, he stopped walking and his features settled into an icy indifference as he looked at me.

"You came to my office seeking professional help. But since you seem to think I'm full of bullshit, I can refer you to someone else in the building."

He said it so calmly. His face was a mask of apathy and disregard. I supposed this is what he saw when he looked at me. I was hurt. I was angry. But mostly, I was terrified of what had just occurred. I turned on my heel and stalked off towards my apartment. As tears streamed down my face, I realized that this time, he wasn't going to come chase me down and apologize.

...

Upon arrival to my flat, I wearily removed my shoes and dragged myself to the bedroom. Flopping down on my bed, I heaved out a shaky breath. I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. I felt a disaster. I'm sure I looked it too.

My mind was restless. I kept replaying the evening over and over in my mind.

Dinner had been so wonderful. I hadn't taken nearly as long to get dressed. I had picked out a deep green dress that hung to just above my knees and was flattering to my figure. Or, as flattering as clothing on me could be. He had walked over to my place to pick me up. When I opened the door, my breathing halted. Damn him and his ability to make me dizzy. His handsome face was lit up into a smile. One just for me.

He had held out his hand and complimented my dress.

We walked to a lovely Italian restaurant hand in hand. I almost cried at the thought. How could I have said those things after he held my hand? Shame washed over me.

Conversation had been light and happy during dinner. We talked about Phoebe and Gerald and PS 118. We talked about the FTI incident and even about his grandparents briefly. I hadn't heard that they had passed. He was living in the boarding house again, he'd said. His face didn't show the sorrow I'm sure he felt. The subject was quickly changed, dessert was served, and the bill was paid. We then walked a few blocks to the cinema and watched a raunchy comedy. I had laughed so hard I'd cried. He had looked over at me several times, surprise written on his face. Surprise that slowly turned into laughter of his own.

I'd had these walls up for so long. The thought of someone, especially Him, seeing me without them was truly terrifying. I hadn't been irritated by him, it's just... not even my family had seen the true me. The thought sobered me from the haze.

I had to go to him. It was suddenly so simple. The solution was to go to him.

I jumped off the bed with renewed energy from the carbohydrate dinner I'd indulged in. I ran for several blocks before I realized that, for once, it wasn't raining on me.

I bounded up the familiar steps to the boarding house and knocked on the door. My loud knocks must have sounded delinquent, because the door was opened hesitantly.

When his blue eyes locked with mine, he opened the door wider. He stood there in lounge pants and a grey t-shirt. The sight of him filled me with relief. His eyes were sleepy and confused.

"Helga, what..."

"I'm sorry, Arnold. I'm really sorry for what I said. I wasn't mad with you, I just...I'm scared you know? I want to just open up with you. I want you to know everything. But, there's my stupid pride and these walls. These damn walls that I've had up for years. Being in touch with your feelings wasn't looked upon as a good trait in the Pataki residence."

I paused and moved to step inside the house. At this, he backed up and allowed me in. I released the breath I'd been holding. He closed the door and I continued.

"There was one person in college. His name was Shane, and we dated for a month. He was good to me, cared for me. But, I couldn't care for him. I realized that so much of me is tangled with you, Arnold. It wouldn't be fair to be with someone when I wasn't fully available."

I looked up at him then. His sleepy gaze was more alert. He looked to be mulling over what I'd said.

"I was scared to tell you," I confided. "I was scared you'd think I was crazy or a freak. But after you recommended professional help, I figured I've got nothing to lose."

Standing there in the entry way, I felt at home. This place had always given me refuge from the Patakis and the cold home I'd resided in with them. Tears blurred my vision as I thought of Gertie. She'd always been so kind, and now she was gone.

"And," I continued shakily, "I wanted to tell you how sorry I was to hear about your grandparents at dinner. Your grandma was always so sweet to me. I know you were close to them, and I'm so sorry that they are gone."

I refused to lose my shit in from of him again. A few tears streaked down my cheeks, but I made no noise. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. I noted that seeing him in his pajamas felt so intimate. He had truly turned into a handsome man.

I glanced into the eyes I'd loved for more than two decades and silently pleaded for him to have patience with me.

He took a soft step towards me and enveloped me in his arms. He was warm and smelled so sweet. His hard body line against my own was comforting and intoxicating. I didn't hesitate to link my arms around his lower back. I could feel his slow breath on my hair. In and out. And I could feel his heart beating in his chest. I closed my eyes and drank in the moment. The first of what I hoped would be many.

"I miss them," he said in a whisper. I tightened my hold on him.

"I know," I replied gently.

"And, I don't think you're crazy," he said softly.

I blinked. "You must not be a very good psychologist then," I joked.

I was grateful to feel a light chuckle rumble in his chest. "Yeah, maybe not. Dating patients is definitely against the rules."

We were dating? We were dating! Dating, dating, dating! My dramatic flair gave a girlish squeal of glee and maybe my mouth did too, because he suddenly pulled me back and stared.

Awkward. That's me.

"Ah, well, speaking of work, I better get home. I'm sure you have appointments tomorrow. You need your beauty sleep," I rambled and laughed uncomfortably as I stepped out of his embrace.

He smiled at me and said, "Yeah, I guess you're right. Do you have any plans tomorrow night?"

I wanted to tell him about the piles of lonely Lean Cuisine in my freezer, but my mouth betrayed me by saying, "No, none."

His grin could've lit the entire house. I found myself grinning in return. "Wanna rent a movie and have dinner tomorrow night then? Maybe we could invite Phoebe and Gerald?"

I couldn't envision a better night. So I told him so. As I turned and moved towards the door he blurted,

"Helga, that dress really does look beautiful on you."

The lack of eye contact and his red face almost made me laugh. Awkward? I guess I'm not the only one.

"Thanks, Football-head. I'll see you tomorrow."

I softly closed the door and ran home, powered by a giddy excitement. The walls were sure to fall down. Slowly, but surely. I would gladly tear them down for him.


	8. Psych 101: Little Talks

**Disclaimer:** I don't own nothin'.

**AN: **Hey y'all. Long time no see. I have no excuse for the absence. Inspiration hit...had to run with it! Hopefully the length of this chapter will kinda make up for the loooooong interruption. It felt a little disjointed but...it's here! I always appreciate reviews, so THANK YOU to those who have! :) Please enjoy and review!

"**There's an old voice in my head that's holding me back. **_**Well tell her that I miss our little talks." **_- "Little Talks" by Of Monsters and Men

**Psych 101: Little Talks**

The boarding house had experienced quite an evening. Everyone always says 'if walls could talk.' Well, if they could they would've ratted my ass out long ago, because I'd been sneaking around the rafters of this building for over a decade. But I digress.

Phoebe and Gerald had eagerly come over for a movie, pizza, and the promise of a night with old friends. Naturally, the boys had chosen an awful action flick that was loudly laughed at and talked over. Although the movie was popped in and 'Play' was pressed, catching up was first priority over watching some macho-man flex his muscles and blow buildings, cars, and other valuables to smithereens while dropping what were supposed to be witty one-liners at inappropriate moments.

When we first settled onto the couch, Arnold had chosen to put his arm around me and it was obviously causing Gerald great grief. I didn't know whether to laugh or be offended by the look on his face. Even though Phoebe and Gerald had been together since middle school, my friend had never leaked my secret. Not even to her fiance. _'Bully for me,' _I thought as I shot a smug look his way, which only deepened his withering look.

I ignored Gerald and decided to focus on the present. I really couldn't believe I was sitting in Arnold's living room, watching a movie with our friends, with his ARM around me. What dimension had I crossed into? Surely this wasn't my life. I hadn't been crafty, or begged, or done any rituals that would've influenced his affection towards me. He had simply settled in next to me on the couch, shot me a quick smile and gingerly placed his arm around my shoulder. What do you know? Dreams really do come true. As I began to settle into his comfortable grasp I abused my peripheral powers to study his face as he laughed at the cheesy movie. His face had always been boyish and soft, but over the years it had acquired stronger lines. They complimented his striking green eyes and his soft blonde hair. He had a face that colorfully displayed all of the emotions he was feeling. I honestly loved and envied him for that. As my gaze strayed lower, I realized just how tall he'd grown and how well it suited him. He was lean and masculine in a way that made my face burn and my heart race. I felt little to no shame in my appreciative gaze and determinedly continued. In the midst of wondering what he might look like with that obtrusive t-shirt off, I briefly wondered why no one had snagged him. He was beautiful, smart, and caring; everything a girl typically looks for, and certainly all I'd ever looked at. I wondered if maybe he was the one who refused to be snagged. I typically don't feel inferior to others, what with my Pataki breeding and all. However, in that moment I was slightly awestruck by him. It was overwhelming, but certainly not in a bad way.

Exactly how long I was caught in his attractive web, I'll never know. But about halfway through the movie I decided to make a break for it. It was almost physically painful to slither out from under his arm but I leaned forward anyways, catching the attention of my petite friend.

"Grub-worm, Mighty Falcon wants to see you in the kitchen," I laughed out to Phoebe as quietly as I could. Although Phoebe laughed, Gerald had obviously overheard because he sent me a judgmental look that cast me straight back to the 4th grade. Well, I figured there's no reason to change his opinion of me and my craziness _this _late in life. So, I gave a goofy grin, grabbed Phoebe's arm and took my exit. As I was leaving I was sure I could hear Gerald saying something along the lines of "Seriously Arnold? Helga G. PATAKI? What are you thinking...Remember when..."

My ears failed me as we approached the kitchen, but I decided it was Gerald's right to interrogate his best friend. Shit, I would be interrogating him too if I were Gerald. I had put that kid through hell nearly for our entire childhood and adolescence. He probably suspected that I had some insidious, adult prank planned. The thought nearly made me giggle.

"Helga, I'm so glad we got to do this. I mean, gosh, I'm just so happy for you. Tell me everything." She beamed at me. Her eyes begged for details, and I didn't want to disappoint. She'd already heard about the initial meltdown turned confession on the street corner, so I told her about the couple of dates we'd been on. As I leaned my elbows onto the center island in the warmly lit kitchen I must've looked and sounded like a thirteen year old talking about her favorite boy band member. I currently felt like the fan that finally got her hand signed with a permanent marker. A hand that would never be washed again. I finished pathetically, but proudly, by telling her that we were officially dating. As a little squeal escaped her it helped to fuel on my own excitement.

"I mean, I feel like I'm dreaming right now. I fully expect to wake up in a padded cell any minute," I laughed to her. But, my laughter was cut short as she quickly dove into my chest and wrapped her arms around my waist. I was caught off guard; something that had been happening an alarming amount lately. "Pheebs?..."

Her voice was muffled by my chest as she said, "...lga, you deserve this. I'm so happy."

I placed my arms around her too as tears sprang to my eyes unwillingly. Crying was also something that had been happening an alarming amount lately. As I gripped her knitted blue sweater I thought about how much I cherished and loved this girl. She had grown into a beautiful woman, while easily maintaining her brains. And her compassion had always known no bounds. I knew personally that Gerald was blessed to have such a dedicated, loyal, loving person at his side.

"Is everything okay?" The sudden appearance of Gerald and Arnold into the kitchen and onto our intimate moment made me flail back. Now at an arm's distance, Phoebe and I sheepishly looked to one another. The silence in the room made me wish that walls could talk. Maybe, break the awkward still that had enveloped the room._ 'Hey guys, knock knock!'_

"Helga? Is everything okay?"

I realized I'd never answered Arnold, and the concern laced throughout his voice made me answer, "Oh yeah, we're fine. Just top secret uh...stuff." I'll admit, it was a dumb answer, and it was received with a dumb look from Gerald. Arnold still looked mildly concerned, bordering on confused.

"Well Pheebs, it's getting late and the movie is over. Time to go, yeah?"

The thought of already having to let my friend go home gave me two urges. One was to violently spring onto Gerald. The other was grip onto Phoebe and make an emotional scene. Fortunately, the reaction that came out was to give Phoebe one last hug and tell her goodnight. However, it didn't stop me from shooting Geraldo a death glare over the small girls shoulder. It was a glare filled with ugly promises to which he rolled his eyes.

As they approached the door to head home for the evening, we all chorused loudly on how fun the night had been and promised that we'd be seeing each other soon. And I really meant it. The hallway felt warm and full of laughter. Gerald shot Arnold one last look full of advice before settling his eyes on me. Despite differences and past wrongdoings, a grin was plastered on my face as I told him goodnight. To my surprise, he smiled lightly and they left with the soft sound of the shutting door.

A moment passed before, "Do you have to go too?"

I was so entranced by the couple's exit that Arnold's voice sounding from behind me nearly made me jump. I thought for a brief moment before answering, "No, I'm free. But, don't you have work tomorrow?"

"Actually, I don't have a client until 2 in the afternoon." His feet shuffled slightly before he quickly added, "I bought a bottle of red wine. I wasn't sure what you liked, but I thought we could have a glass?"

The unforeseen invitation broke my speech. Hell, it broke my brain. I knew it was within an hour of midnight. I knew I was with Arnold at the boarding house. I also knew that the alcohol would come in and destroy me because loose lips sink ships. I floundered slightly.

"You don't have to. I'm sorry, I didn't even know if you drank. I just,"

"Arnold, of course I drink. I'm a writer. And besides, I know this is just your master plan to seduce me," I laughed, or maybe choked, out. God, I hope I sounded as casual and calm as I wanted to. I'm sure I didn't because as soon as it left my lips I could feel my palms sweating and my face turning interesting shades of red. All those appreciative glances earlier had suddenly seized control of my brain and forced me to say something exceedingly awkward. But, I stood my ground. This opportunity was not going to slip away from Helga G. Pataki.

He turned pink, but chuckled and said, "Well, since you've figured me out, I guess I should go grab some glasses."

As he left for the kitchen I silently begged to anyone that would listen. _'Please DO NOT let this be the awkward, awful situation I'm imagining it will be.'_ I swallowed loudly and stiffly followed into the kitchen that had held so much warmth for me and Phoebe, but now was suddenly filled with anxiety.

* * *

Three glasses later, all anxiety had flown out the window. Who knew what time it was? Who cared? The only things that mattered were these: I was sitting on the couch again with Arnold. We'd been sharing stories and chuckling for awhile. And I was actually comfortable. I was rarely comfortable.

We talked about Bob Pataki, whom apparently Arnold thought was an asshole. I laughed and agreed, continuing to tell him ridiculous stories about the inner workings of the Pataki residence. In high school it'd been difficult to talk about some of the hurtful exchanges between my parents and I, but as time passed I became less bothered by them. It was now easy to tell many of the stories in a self-deprecating manner that made Arnold still for a moment before erupting into laughter.

In that moment I thought I was so funny. But judging by the redness of Arnold's face and the slight slurring of my own speech, I would later have to re-examine and say that rather than being a knockout comedian, we were just a little drunk.

I suddenly realized that I was out of stories to tell, and apparently Arnold was too, because there was a brief pause in the stream of conversation.

"I really liked this little talk. I've really liked all of our little talks. I wish we would've done this sooner Helga." He said it so quietly and with such conviction that it sobered me briefly.

I risked looking up at his face and was immediately met with his intense green gaze, which had been softened slightly by the alcohol.

"Me too, Arnold," I replied gently with a smile.

He suddenly leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. I slowly closed my eyes in disbelief as my head spun, and_ not_ from the alcohol. His lips were soft on mine and his kiss was gentle despite it's suddenness. As I leaned into him I felt his hand ghost to my face to further the embrace. He tasted just like the wine we'd enjoyed and I knew I'd just found my new favorite drink. After what seemed like only moments, but I'm sure was much longer, he pulled back slightly and smiled at me.

Oh yeah, air. Oxygen. I'd forgotten how vital that was.

"Since it's so late, you can just sleep up in my room for the night." The way he'd managed to say it a little breathlessly and with a heavy gaze had made my stomach suddenly fill with butterflies in response, but instead I said,

"Wow. You know, I was joking about the seduction thing."

Seeing him squirm was worth the joke, even if it did lose me the serious moment I'd been entangled in and had dreamt about for years.

"That is _not_ what I meant. I mean, I was thinking you could take the bed. Not with me! Obviously, I mean I'd sleep on the floor, or even in a different room or..."

"Arnold."

I silenced him. I figured that he'd suffered enough for one night.

"Why don't I take the couch down here? I am not taking your bed." He seemed to ponder it for a moment. I fully expected his chivalrous ways to rear up and insist that I take the bed, but to my surprise he accepted my offer.

He ran to grab some blankets. I was suddenly very tired, as I realized that the alcohol was wearing off and tempting me to sleep. He quickly returned and went about making a nest of sorts on the couch. I turned to ease myself down onto the soft looking space but was stopped by Arnold's hands. He turned me around and bent down to meet my lips and kiss me goodnight. It was chaste but sweet and made me question if I was really tired anymore or not. As he pulled away, forehead still tilted down and connected to mine, he quietly said, "Night Helga."

"Night," I whispered, afraid that if I spoke too loud I really would awake in that padded cell I'd mentioned to Pheebs.

I laid down as he tucked me. We exchanged one last small smile before he quietly turned on his heels and made his way to his bedroom. I drifted straight to sleep.

* * *

As the sunlight filtered through the windows the next morning, I opened my eyes to see Arnold's living room. Not a padded cell...Thank God.

Looking at the clock I noted that it was still rather early being only a little after 8am. I picked myself up, folded the blankets I'd snuggled in for the night and wrote out a quick note to Arnold.

_'Arnold,_

_Thanks for the pizza, wine, and little talks. Call me tonight?_

_Helga'_

As I quietly shut the front door to the boarding house, I grinned and bounded down the front steps. I was completely ready for the day after having the best nights sleep I'd had in years. Possibly ever.


End file.
